O weary heart, there is a Home, Beyond the reach of toil and care ; A Home where changes never come : Who would not fain be resting there ?
Oh wait, . . . meekly wait, and murmur not ! Oh wait, . . meekly wait, and murmur not i Oh wait, ... oh wait, . . . Oh wait, and murmur not ! . . .
2. Yet when bowed down beneath the load By heaven allowed, thine earthly lot ; Look up ! thou'lt reach that blest abode : Wait, meekly wait, and murmur not !
3. If in thy path some thorns are found, Oh, think who bore them on His brow ; If grief thy sorrowing heart has found, It reached a holier than thou.
4. Toil on ! nor deem, though sore it be, One sigh unheard, one prayer forgot ; The day of rest will dawn for thee : Wait, meekly wait, and murmur not !